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by destiel.vaughnton
Summary: Dean can't sleep; he misses Castiel too much. Just when he's about to give up... Rated T for mild language, kissing but nothing too bad I'm just paranoid haha. Fluffy, cute Hurt/Comfort Destiel. Enjoy! Note: I own nothing. All characters belong to Eric Kripke.


Dean fluttered his eyes open and immediately wished he hadn't. He balled the sheets up in his fists and closed his eyes again, trying to will the memories away. He'd had the dream again. The one he always had. The one where Cas freaking left. Not in the usual sense, where he teleported away leaving Dean slightly disappointed and uncomfortable in a way he didn't fully understand. No. The one where he left, the kind of leaving that means heartbreak and ashen wings shadowed on the ground and never-coming-back. In some primal corner of his mind Dean knew that he thought of Castiel's death in these terms simply because it made it easier, though he wasn't sure why. That was what being a hunter carried with it. People got hurt, people died. People left and never came back. Dean had been able to cope with it before, drowning himself in beer and cheap whores in attempts to forget.

Somehow, though, Castiel was different. Dean couldn't bring himself to forget, especially not in the usual way. Beer and cheap whores were an insult to him and his purity. After all, he was an angel.

His angel.

That wasn't the first time those words had subtly intruded into Dean's musings, but yet they still shocked and confused him every time. Where did that come from? he asked himself, but of course, there was no answer. Answers and Cas were mutually exclusive, it seemed.

So instead Dean would just ball up Castiel's trenchcoat under his head at night, and breathe in the smell of Cas and cheap motel laundry soap and try to will away the dreams and forget the memories. Half of him wanted to remember Cas, the good and the bad, everything that made up his angel. The other half wondered if it would be better to just be numb, and to forget Cas and everything those three little letters meant to him, even though he somehow sensed that was impossible. You can't really forget the person who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition. The one who rebelled for you, fell for you, did it all for you.

Blinking his eyes open and sighing, he grabbed the trenchcoat and slipped out from under the sheets, easing himself off of the bed and quietly padding into the bathroom, turning back to look at Sammy, peacefully asleep under his sheets and blankets in the other bed. Sam missed Cas too, he knew that much, but for Dean it was always different. Cas' handprint burned into his arm was enough to ensure that much. Sometimes, when he really missed Cas, it would start to tingle and burn. That only made things worse because it just reminded Dean even more of all that Castiel had done for him.

Dean eased open the bathroom door, hoping it wouldn't creak and wake Sammy. Dean might not be able to sleep but Sammy deserved his rest and shouldn't be interrupted.

Look after Sammy, Dean.

Great. Now on top of insomnia and abandonment issues, Dean was having daddy issues too. His dad was right, though. Sammy needed someone to look after him. And God knows Dean had done a crap job on that too. Luckily the door didn't creak, and Dean eased his lithe form through the doorway and shut the door gently behind him. He thought he heard Sammy's breathing catch, but he waited a moment and his brother resumed snoring so things must be all right. Dean flicked on the light, and sat down on the edge of the bathtub, balling up the trenchcoat in his hands and holding it gently as if somehow Cas could come back and haunt him through it, as if it were remains. He pressed his face into it, choking back a shuddery breath.

Cas was never coming back.

Just that thought alone was almost enough to push Dean over the edge.

Get it together, Dean. he told himself. Cas is gone, Cas is dead, Cas left, and he's never coming back.

Dean took a deep breath and gulped it down, rubbing one thumb over one of the trenchcoat buttons, twisting the belt around his hand, weaving it in between his fingers, toying with one frayed edge.

He looked up then, unable to stare at the article that screamed Castiel any longer, and he glanced around the crappy motel bathroom. He closed his eyes, pressed his hands to his temples, letting the trenchcoat fall in a rumpled heap to the ground.

"Cas," he said, his voice shaky and thick with the threat of oncoming tears. "I miss you. You did everything for me. You did it all for me. You pulled me from the Pit. Hell, you even gave up Heaven for me. And I never got to thank you, you little bastard. And then you...you..." his voice cracked and he choked back a sob.

"You left. You died. You freaking died, Cas. And I can never forgive you for that, you son of a bitch. I need you back, Cas. Me and Sammy, we need you back. Cas, if you can hear me, then you come back right this second. You come back now, Cas. This isn't funny anymore. I can't do this, any of this...I can't stop the Apocalypse without you. I need your help."

Dean's voice broke then, and he just buried his head in his hands and breathed, hoping for the pain to go away, for it all to just go away and leave him alone.

And he swore that in that moment, he smelled the sharp, cracking scent of ozone, and heard the soft fluttering of wings that meant that one of the Angels had arrived.

"Which one of you dicks on wings is it this time," he mumbled, not even bothering to take his face from his hands because at this point who cared. Who cared if he was weak. Who cared if the Angels knew he missed Cas more than anything.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean's gaze rocketed up instinctively upon hearing his angel say his name. Part of him thought it was too good to be true, it was probably a shapeshifter or some other Angel being a dick again and messing with Dean like a chess pawn.

But as soon as he saw Castiel's face, complete with his scruffy, unshaven Angel-beard, the brilliant, flame-blue eyes that always caught Dean off guard, that somber, confused expression he always wore, and the adorable head-tilt Dean had grown to love, he knew it really was him.

Cas was home.

Dean jumped up and flung his arms around Cas, around his Angel, half expecting Jimmy's body to vanish into smoke and mist at his touch. But it didn't. It really was Cas, under his suit jacket and white shirt and forever crooked, crappily-knotted blue tie. Dean buried his face in Cas' shoulder, squeezing the life out of him. At first Castiel just stood there, awkwardly, unsure of what to do, but after a few seconds he returned Dean's embrace, wrapping his arms around him.

After a moment Castiel stepped back, breaking the hug, and Dean let go, somewhat reluctantly.

"Cas, don't you ever go pulling shit like that again. I missed you so bad."

Cas tilts his head to one side, calmly regarding Dean with a neutral expression.

"...Cas? Say something man, you're freaking me out."

"Dean, I missed you too. More than you know." Castiel murmured softly, his voice rasping low and sending a chill down Dean's back. It was the same husky, raspy voice that Dean had grown to love, so different from Jimmy's, his vessel's, a voice that belonged uniquely to Cas and to no one else.

Suddenly Cas shoved Dean's sleeve up roughly and fit his hand around the burn mark he had made so long ago when he saved Dean from Hell, saved him from the rack, saved him from himself. Dean buried his face in Castiel's shoulder again, not having to say anything, grabbing the shirt on Cas' back and balling it up in his fists, telling himself it will all be okay.

"Cas...damn, Cas, you're really back."

Cas chuckled. "Yes, Dean. I'm really back. I missed you Dean. I missed hearing you call me Cas. No one's called me that in a very long time."

Dean smiled against Cas' shoulder before letting him go and stepping back, giving the guy some personal space. Though, then again, that seemed to be something Castiel never required. Dean smiled at his Angel.

"You're missing something," he said, and then he bent down to pick up Castiel's trenchcoat, holding it out to him tentatively.

Cas reached out to grab it, but he knit his brow in confusion and seemed unsure of what to do with it. He just sort of held it out there, before gently offering it back to Dean. Dean shoved it back towards Cas.

"No, man, it's yours. Keep it. It's your trenchcoat. You're not you without it."

"Is that so?" Castiel said, and Dean nodded. Cas was acting weird, and he was starting to feel uneasy.

Cas turned his back towards Dean and stuck his arms out a little, and at first Dean was really confused- it seemed like Cas wanted Dean to put the trenchcoat on him or something. Okay, scratch that. Cas was acting very weird, and it was making Dean uncomfortable and on-edge.

"It's all right Dean. I'm not going to hurt you," Castiel murmured. Dean sighed, bit his lip, and stared at the lithe knots and ropes of muscle that made up his angel's back, outlined subtly by the thin fabric of his white shirt.

"Dean," Cas murmured, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice, "Are you gonna put my damn coat on or are you gonna stand there and keep checking me out?"

Dean had no idea how to respond to this. He hadn't been checking him out, he had been...okay, fine, Cas was right. He had been checking him out. But it wasn't Dean's fault. Jimmy was an attractive vessel. But somehow Dean knew it was more than that. It wasn't just Jimmy the angel condom that was attractive, though for a meatsuit, he wasn't half bad. It was Castiel himself. Castiel's spark blue eyes, Castiel's husky rasp of a voice, his perpetually untied tie and undone trenchcoat, his perpetual I-just-had-sex hair that had never seen a comb in it's life.

Cas.

His name washed over Dean and suddenly Dean understood. He understood why he could never cope with Castiel's death, why he could never forget. He understood why Castiel teleporting off at inconvenient and frustrating times was so upsetting. He understood why he and Cas shared a bond that could never be broken, why he had wished and hoped and waited that Cas would come home again

He shoved the trenchcoat onto Castiel's arms and up and over his shoulders before spinning him around and kissing him hard on the mouth.

To his surprise, Castiel kissed him right back. Dean took his fingers and ran them through Castiel's hair, carding through it and licking softly at Castiel's closed lips, hoping to God he would be given permission to enter. And he was. After a few seconds Castiel reciprocated, and he started running his fingers through Dean's hair instead of standing there, arms at his sides, not entirely sure what to do. He kissed Dean back and ran his hands through Dean's hair and Dean smiled against his Angel's mouth and he felt Castiel smile back. Dean was the first to break their kiss. Cas looked confused, hurt.

"What? Was I doing it wrong?"

"What?" Dean looked at him, confused.

"Was I doing something wrong? Why did you stop?"

Dean laughed. "I ran out of air. I had to catch my breath."

Cas cocked his head to one side, clearly perplexed, and Dean smiled.

"I guess Angels never run out of breath, huh." Dean said, amused. "I, um...so, uh...does this mean..."

Castiel smiled wryly. "I love you Dean. I always have. It took me awhile to realize it, but from the moment I raised you from perdition I have loved you."

That hit Dean like a freight train, nearly bowling him over backwards. He had to take a moment to let it sink in.

Finally he just took a deep breath, grinned, and said "I, uh...God, Cas, I love you too."

Cas smiled wide, his eyes growing even brighter. Dean smiled too, and they just stood there, smiling like idiots. Knowing that just simply affirming and returning Cas' affection could make him so happy made Dean incredibly happy as well. He took Cas' hand and they both sat down, side by side, on the edge of the bathtub. Dean examined Castiel's hand absentmindedly, counting the tiny scars and marks on the tan skin, tracing the outline of all the fine lines on his palm, turning it over and over again in his hands.

Dean swore under his breath. "God, you're so cute," he murmured.

Cas blinked and smiled slightly, instantly, almost reflexively. Tentatively, Cas leaned over until he was resting his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean just grinned and threw his arm around Cas.

"It's good to have you home," he said.


End file.
